


All You Need

by bluedemon92



Category: Neverland (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedemon92/pseuds/bluedemon92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The times Jimmy was there for Peter and the time he let him fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be part of a series. I'm on a Neverland kick which sucks when no one else is. But this will do.

 

 

It had been a miracle there was a record of her. Her time of death and the child she left behind.  All Jimmy had needed to do was ask the woman who ran the orphange and she had offered him a small smile.

 “He is in the courtyard with the other children.  Sister Mildred will show you.”  She nodded to a younger nun who stepped forward.

 “Come along, dear.”  Jimmy followed her out into the brisk air, his coat doing little against the biting cold. Outside, several children ran about.  All orphans. All alone.  He gazed around the crowd attempting to spot the chil in question out.  Perhaps he would have her red hair.  Sister Mildred smiled at him and pointed towards the brick wall on the other side of the courtyard.  Jimmy followed her gaze and squinted, ignoring the children who raced by in favor of the one who sat against the wall.  The boy was impossibly tiny.  Dark haired and pale.  Jimmy approached him slowly, waiting for the tiny waif to notice him.  Finally the boy met his eyes and he was stunned at the loveliness of them.  Just like hers…large doe eyed and deep brown, framed by long curling lashes.  He stared at the boy, unable to look away for several moments.  The boy’s gaze had passed over him to peer around the snow covered courtyard in silence.

 Jimmy turned to Sister Mildred who stood beside him.

 “How long has he been here?”  He questioned, nodding towards the child.

 “Three years now.  Poor dear was just four when his mother passed.  He’ll be eight in a few months time.”

 “What is his name?”  Jimmy asked, never taking his eyes off the waif.

 “His name is Peter.”  Sister Mildred hummed.  Jimmy’s fingers traced the bridge of his hat as he gazed at the boy.

 “Peter…may I speak with him?”  He asked and Sister Mildred nodded.  “You may.”  Jimmy approached Peter whose eyes returned to watching him.  Smiling, Jimmy knelt down near the child.

 “Hello Peter.”  Jimmy greeted softly. Peter stared at him, brows furrowing. 

 “Hello.” He replied warily. His eyes shifting to the other children playing.  He appeared apprehensive.  His little fingers curling around his knees.

 “My name is Jimmy.” Jimmy continued.  Peter offered a faint smile.

 “I’m Peter…but I guess you already knew that.”  He looked down at his dirty shoes while Jimmy chuckled.  "Why aren't you playing with the other children?"  He asked, glancing up and studying the children in the courtyard.  Peter shrugged his shoulders studying his shoes.

"I don't know."  He replied sullenly.  Jimmy frowned.  "Have you any friends here Peter?"

Peter shook his head.  He did not look at Jimmy who studied him.  Not a friend in the world and all alone?  No child of Jenny would face that.  Not even if _he_ was the father.

 “Peter,” The waif looked back up at him. “I was wondering if you would at all be interested in coming home with me?”

 Peter’s little brow furrowed once again.

 “You mean like adopting me?”

 “Yes.” Jimmy responded, meeting Peter’s stare with a little smile.  Peter shook his head.

 “Are you…are you sure?”  His voice coming out much softer and Jimmy’s smile softened.

 “Of course I am.”  He replied, His hands itched to cup Peter's dear little face in his hands.  Instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little bauble.  He offers it  to Peter who looks at it with great interest.  Slowly he takes the offered prize, a smile spreading across his face.  His little fingers traced over the bauble and he looked up at Jimmy who was still smiling.

"It's a gift."  Jimmy stated and Peter's face heated slightly.

"Thank you."  The child's hunched shoulders relaxed, his demeanor shifting as he looked at Jimmy.  Jimmy took quick advantage, his hands clasped in his lap as he gazed into the face of the child of his love and his enemy.

"You have been here far too long Peter.  I do believe you would enjoy life with me.  Much nicer than being here with no friends. _I_ will be your friend."  Jimmy urged and Peter blinked, looking horribly confused.

"You will be my friend?"

"I will be anything you need me to be."  Jimmy vowed.  He watched as the boy's face lit up.  "I would like that."  Slowly he reached out and took the offered hand.  Jimmy curled his fingers around Peter's; marveling at how tiny they were in his own hand.  Hand in hand man and child walked across the courtyard to a smiling Sister Mildred.  And as they descended the steps of the orphanage that Peter had spent nearly have his life, the boy did not look back once.


	2. Chapter 2

Often times during the night, Jimmy would wake up to Peter crawling into bed next to him, he would lie perfectly still as the child tucked his head under the chin and drew in close to the man for warmth. Peter approached as quietly as he could, but still Jimmy always knew.

The first time it had happened the floor had creaked and Jimmy's eyes shot open just as Peter fled out the door, his nerve evaporated. The second time it happened, Peter made it to the bed avoiding the area of the floor that creaked, yet Jimmy still awoke. Befuddled and groggy, he squinted at Peter.  

"Peter? What are you doing?"  He asked in confusion.  Peter blinked owlishly.  His face hidden in the shadows of the darkened room.

"Can't sleep."  The boy finally managed.  Jimmy sat up.  "Are you having nightmares?"  He questioned and Peter shook his head.

"M' sorry for waking you up Jimmy."  Peter began to back away to leave the room, when Jimmy leant forward and took Peter's arm.

"No.  There is no need to apologize.  Why can't you sleep Peter?"

"I'm all alone."

Peter had in a sense never been alone.  For a few years it had been his mother and himself.  Together they went day by day side by side.  Her death led to him being place in the orphanage.  There were many children in the orphanage.  At night he slept in a room with several other boys.  He could hear them breathe as they slept.  And despite his feelings of loneliness and sadness, those boys were still there assuring him with their breath that even if he sometimes felt like it, he was not alone.   But now he slept alone.  No other boys breathing or whispering.  Jimmy, too far away to be there.  It scared Peter.  Jimmy smiled at him suddenly.  His eyes tender.  His grip on Peter's arm loosened for a moment before pulling him forward.  With his other hand he held open the blanket.

"Of course.  If you would like, you can sleep here tonight."

Peter needed no more coaxing, clambering into the bed and against Jimmy's chest with a relieved little smile.  Chucking, Jimmy pressed a kiss against the top of Peter's head and lay the blanket back down.

Time passed easily enough, at night Peter would find his way to Jimmy's bed where Jimmy was waiting with an exasperated smile.  Jimmy of course was thrilled to have Peter wish to be close to him.  This boy, Jenny's son adored him so dearly and snuggled so close with him during the night.  It was as if Peter was his own son.  Another darker part of Jimmy chuckled and thought of what Peter's father would think if he knew his son spent his nights curled in Jimmy's arms.  Where the father had failed, Jimmy had succeeded. Peter was by all means, _his_ son now.   _His_ boy.

* * *

 

Peter was nine when they took in Fox.  Peter had been on a job for Jimmy when he had seen him fleeing from a man who was screaming obscenities at him with every step.  Then in a blink of an eye, the boy had vanished around the corner, leaving the irate man very confused.  Peter followed the mystery boy.  The boy was slipping through a window and Peter, ever curious followed.  it was like a game and when the boy had spotted Peter following he had grinned, and Peter had grinned back.

That night, while Jimmy worried and stared out the window waiting for Peter, they boys spent it walking down the deserted nighttime streets, talking and laughing.  Fox, like Peter had no family to go to.  His mum and father dead of illness.  Unable to let Fox walk away, he had convince him to follow him home.

"Where have you been?"  Jimmy had asked as Peter walked through the door, Fox trailing behind.  Peter had smiled his usual sheepish grin and ushered Fox forward.

"This is Fox.  He doesn't have a home.  He's really smart and fast.  Can he stay Jimmy?  Please?"  Jimmy stared at the two boys.  Peter' earnest expression and the closed off nervous one on the taller boy's face.  He regarded Fox carefully.

"How old are you boy?"  He asked.

"Ten sir."

"You have no family to go to?"

"None sir."  Fox responded solemnly.  Jimmy's brows furrowed as he took in the boy's appearance.

"Peter says you are very fast and smart.  We certainly have room for that here.  Peter will show you where to sleep."  Amusement danced in the man's eyes at the elated expression on Peter's face and the awe in Fox's.  He waved off the boy's sputtered thanks and nodded to Peter to show him his bed.  Peter quickly approached Jimmy and threw his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you Jimmy."  He murmured against Jimmy's stomach.  Jimmy smiled and gently stroked Peter's dark hair.  "Go on Peter."  He urged.  Bestowing Jimmy with a final smile, Peter raced towards Fox and the two boys charged down the stairs and out of sight.

Peter did not come to Jimmy that night.

Instead, early the next morning, Jimmy found him and Fox curled in the beds facing each other, their fingers nearly touching.  they had spent the night talking and laughing and oh so happy to have met each other.  Smiling, Jimmy silently made his way back up the stairs, thankful that Fox had come to them.

A year later they would taken in Nibs and Curly.  The boys had been traveling together for the last couple of weeks and were relieved to run into Fox and Peter.  The older boy had been hesitant to accept the offer, but after seeing Nibs accept, he followed.  The ten and nine year old were accepted by Jimmy who was surprised to see two more boys approach but at Fox and Peter's pleading, he could not turn them away.  Four months later would bring nine year old Slightly to the group and followed by nine year old Tootles two weeks later.  The youngest; ten year old Twins joined them a year and a half later.

If you had asked jimmy Hook if he expected that by taking Peter in, he would end up taking in a bunch of stray children he would have scoffed.  However, suddenly there were boys everywhere!  He could not deny Peter those boys.  

Fox's cleverness matched his name.  He as the eldest watched over the other boys with ease, and was particularly protective of Peter.  Those two were always the closest and if you spotted one, the other was not far behind.  Nibs was softer spoken than the other boys.  Cautious and quick, he made a wonderful pickpocket.  Curly was rather...surly.  His temper often getting the better of him. But loyal without a doubt.  Slightly was a friendly lad and always appeared well groomed.  He was closer with Tootles who was probably the most approachable of the group of rag tag children. Twins was quite the charmer.  He was still young enough to slip passed most unnoticed.  His small size being his advantage.  

And Peter.

 _His_ Peter.

In the span of the last few years, the boy had taken Hook's hear and held it tight.  At first Hook had thought it had all to do with Jenny, but in reality.  It was all Peter. He managed to bring a group of children and make a family.  Jimmy would not give up these boys for anything on Earth. With these boys now living there, it meant Peter was no longer alone at night.  They all slept together down those creaky stairs, blissful to be in each other's company.

But sometimes late at night, Peter would still approach Jimmy and slip under the blankets with him, still needing that closeness that only Jimmy could provide.  Jimmy cherished these moments throughout the years.  He would do anything for this boy. He would help him in any way he could. No matter what it was. His boy had family. It proved to be a cold night, when he realized that peter would never again approach his bed with a hopeful little smile.  He would never hold the boy again.  it was even colder when he realized he didn't care.   

 


	3. Chapter 3

The boys had formed an easy working unit. It marveled Jimmy how easily they came together when the time called for it. How close they came to each other without any need to. Jimmy imagined where they would be if not with him. Curly would be dead. Perhaps the twins as well. They would be on the streets or in a factory. Jimmy knew that was where Peter would be headed if Jimmy had not shown up. Peter in a factory?

Blasphemy.

Supper was an interesting affair with the children. Food often stolen from vendors. Breads and fruits, taken by grubby little hands. They would all gather together, placing their treasures on the table with happy little grins. Jimmy would chuckle and comment on the lack of vegetable, because of course they would never bother with a vegetable! Boys would be boys it seemed.

However, on the Jolly Roger meals were much different. Ales were drank and meat from caught animals roasted. There was just as much talk but none of the innocence. Much talk was bawdy and crude. It was a rather pleasant change for Hook. No longer being forced to watch his every word, with his crew he could be a man. Still some nights after drinking himself into oblivion, drinking himself past the resentment and hatred for peter to to the point where he lamented him. Jimmy would think of Peter.

_Peter offered Jimmy a wide grin as the man offered him an apple. He took the apple in his had, admiring the red skin._

_"Jimmy?" He began softly. Jimmy cocked a brow at the hesitance in Peter's tone._

_"Yes Peter?" He questioned and the boy licked his lips shuffling._

_"We'll stick together right? No matter what?" He asked, his dark eyes wide. Smiling Jimmy ran a hand through the boy's hair._

_"No matter what."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate being in a dead fandom, yet here I am! (Also a stand alone oneshot)

Fear men.

Fear them when they're old and fear them when they're young. Fear them with their smiles and fear them with their shouts. It does not matter. Old or young, men are something to be feared.

Peter learned this at a very young age. He had learned this from watching men on the street watch his mother with eyes that glowed too hot. He learned this from listening to their mutters of his mother being...trash. No husband, no income and a child. Did she even know who the father was? Was she one of _those_ women on the streets? All those cruel accusations and yet no one offered to lift a finger to aid her. Peter learned very quickly, the cruelty of men.

His mother's death had not been of illness or anything explainable like that. Her death had been filled with such violence and such cruelty that Peter would never forget it. She had been working so many odd jobs while trying to support herself and Peter. Some of these jobs went down slippery slopes and the wrong sort of people began to know her name. One evening, after Jenny had finished with her work, she had walked through the quiet wintery streets with Peter tucked in her arms. He was trying to stay awake, but his eyes were growing heavy and mother's gentle humming was always so quick to put him to rest. Home was not too much further, just over the bridge. She hummed against his ear, lips curled into a kind smile as she walked down the street. Peter could feel snow landing against his cheek and he peeked his eyes open to watch the flurries dance around their heads. That was when he noticed the shadow in the distance. The child lifted his head, blinking away sleepiness as he processed that it was a man following not too far behind them. Content with this, Peter lowered his head again and closed his eyes.

Jenny murmured into her child's ear and he lifted his head off her shoulder to smile at her, entranced by her words and the stories she would tell him. Stories of knights and princesses and happy endings. Stories that made Peter feel safe and secure. Peter was three. Stories always made him happy. He glanced once away from her, looking over her shoulder to see the same man walking in their direction. He was closer now, with his head lowered and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He must have felt Peter's eyes on him for he looked up and his eyes met Peter's. The man smiled. Peter smiled back, uncertain but still a smile. There was something about this man...he could not name it, but something about him made Peter feel too hot and too cold all at once. Jenny had not noticed him, still smiling at Peter with adoration. She had stopped walking so she could look at her child. She quickly noticed his attention was elsewhere and she turned to see what her boy was looking at.

Jenny had felt the same feeling Peter had. Her hands had tightened around Peter and she turned to walk forward, steps quicker now. The man did not stray from his path. Jenny's steps were quick as she moved to cross the street, holding Peter close. Peter wrapped his arms around his mother's shoulders, not understanding her sudden change in pace, but still the man followed. He crossed the street, footsteps leaving imprints in the snow.

"Mama," Peter whispered, little fingers lightly reaching to touch his mother's hair. Jenny's arm lifted up, one still securely holding him and the other stroking his cheek. "the man..." He did not look away, staring into the eyes of the man. They were dark. Darker than Peter had ever seen eyes being, nearly black. It was like staring into the starless night sky and it left Peter feeling suddenly ill.

"Hush, darling." Jenny murmured. Suddenly, the man began to move quicker and Jenny broke into a desperate run. She raced forward, red curls bouncing as she practically flew down the road. The man did not speak and it seemed as if he was slowing down a bit. Jenny did not stop to check. She managed to get some distance between them. It was late and it was only the three of them outside. The man had yet to stop in his pursuit and Jenny turned to the nearest door, shifting Peter into one arm as she desperately banged on the door.

"Help, please!" She cried out, glancing over her shoulder as the man continued forward, now at a relaxed pace. It was as if he was toying with her. She turned, banging on the door. No one answered. Peter was silent, holding onto his mother as she released a noise from between her teeth and turned to run again. The man continued on. Jenny approached the next house. Peter could see him yellow lighting through the window. They were awake. Again, Jenny pounded on the door, calling out for help. The shadow within the home moved, bouncing off the walls and Peter heard his mother's hopeful breath. He glanced over her shoulder, watching the man's approach. Then the lights went out and no one came to the door. No one was ever going to come. Jenny's breathing was ragged as he realized this. She moved again, taking the stone steps as quickly as she could, stumbling on the last one and nearly falling. Peter cried out in surprise as Jenny caught herself, righting him against her chest and running again. Peter could see the outlines of the bridge as the snow fell heavily against them. Jenny saw it too. Their home was just over that bridge. She released an elated breath. The man would not dare follow her there. She only needed to get to that door.

Peter looked up again, blinking away the snow gathering in his eyelashes. His brows furrowed as he stared out into the now empty street. The man was no where in sight. The snow continued to blow hard, but the street was deserted. "Mama, he's gone." Peter whispered and Jenny turned hesitantly, releasing a weak noise of relief when she too noticed that they were alone. Her hand lifted, cupping Peter's cheek and he practically felt her sag in relief.

"Oh, thank God." She breathed, turning Peter's face towards her and stroking a gentle thumb down his brow. "I'm sorry, Peter. You must have been scared." She mused fretfully, the same worry crease appearing in between her brows that Peter had.

"No mama." He was quick to assure her. How could he truly be afraid when she was with him? Jenny offered him a small smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of his chilled nose.

"It's cold," She murmured. "Let's get you to bed." Peter nodded at this, arms winding around her shoulders once more and his eyes closing, content and already forgetting about the strange encounter. Home was close. Home meant safety. Jenny turned back towards the bridge, heart still hammering as her feet crunched through the snow. Her movements remained quick. Her hair had fallen from its bun and it was now tangled around her head, wisps of red at the corner of her eyes. She felt Peter's hair tickle her cheek as he lifted a tiny hand to touch her curls. Their home was in sight. Jenny began to hum again.

Then she heard footsteps in the snow just behind her. She turned on her heel, Peter lifting his head in curiosity. Jenny saw the snow falling around her, the darkened building with snow covered steps. She saw Peter's dear little face as he looked out and a flash of silver whipping through the night. Then Jenny was gurgling, a spout of red splattering around the snow and those black eyes stared at her. She stumbled back, legs failing and her arms nearly giving out. She managed to hold onto her boy as she fell, hearing Peter's cry of confusion. The man spoke. Turning as if to proceed with Peter, but stalling for a moment, staring at the child. He said something to the boy. A taunt or an apology, Jenny did not know. Those eyes vanished as quickly as they came, footsteps fleeing into the night. Peter scooted forward, listening to those awful noises coming from him mother. He called out to her.

"Mama." His voice nearly lost in the wind. Jenny's eyes moved to look at her son. His eyes matching hers, wide and confused. She tried to lift her hand, fingers twitching as she coughed. Scarlet was suddenly spotting her son's face and she weakly attempted to wipe it away, only managing to leave a smear of blood with the tips of her fingers across his mouth. She could not speak words of comfort. He could not understand what was happening. She tried to reach out again, her little boy staring down at her with those doe eyes of his. So much of his father was in him, but more still of her. He was speaking, voice high and warbling.

_'He's just a boy...'_

His dear little hands tried to wipe the blood from her chin, upset at the blood that now coated the ground, saturating the once pure snow. He did not seem to notice that his hands were covered in blood, too focused on trying to make his mother better. He was crying, nose cold and running and eyes shining with fearful tears.

"Pe-Pet..." The words were barely audible, but her boy met her gaze, seeming to understand that she would not be getting up from this. Her poor sweet boy...no father...now no mother...what a cruel world he would live in. Peter spoke again, hysterical by this point. His face was the last thing she would ever see. The snow continued to fall, curling through the air and leaving a little boy crying in the night as his mother breathed her last.

Peter was found the next morning, curled into the arms of his dead mother. He had not left her side, even as she stopped moving and even as her eyes stared blankly up at the sky. He had tucked himself against her, mumbling for her with his voice thick and eyes filled with tears. He was too young to truly understand, but he knew enough that she was not waking up. She was not _moving_. Where else could he go? He had no ability to think of finding shelter. No, he wanted his mama and so he stayed with his mama, not moving until he heard the scream of a witness as they spotted the carnage.

It took the witnesses several moments to realize he was even alive. His lips were blue and he was covered in gore, but he was alive and unhurt. They came at him with blankets. _'Lucky'_ They said. Lucky that he was not killed as well. Lucky the cold did not claim him in the hours he spent lying in the snow. Peter did not feel lucky. He felt cold and tired and was waiting for mama to wakeup. They took him away from her, despite his howls to let him go. He felt so weak and heavy, but even then, he did not want to leave his mother. He was too weak to put up much of a struggle and he was lifted up into the arms of a kindly man with a curling ginger beard. Peter wailed at the sight of them man, sluggishly trying to push away. They took him from his mother and he never saw her again. He quickly lost consciousness, waking periodically, but never remaining so. He could remember bits and pieces of the day, but nothing that remained solid, as if it were all cast in shadows.

When he next awoke, he was no longer a son, but an orphan and he was alone. Mother never came for him and it was that day he realized she never would come for him again.

* * *

Peter was eventually given to a workhouse where he could 'make himself useful'. There was controversy surround his 'situation'. The child of a rumored 'street walker' that had been butchered in the street. No one wanted a child with that sort of story. So, he was sent to work. Peter did as was expected of him because he did not know what else to do. It did not mean anything went smoothly. He was a troublemaker, always had been. From the time he was five until he was eight he remained in this warehouse. The man there were cold and uninterested and left Peter on edge. Adults were filled with cruelty. Men especially. If anyone asked, his mother died of an illness. There would never be the mention of the man with black eyes or the morning after with Peter drenched in scarlet. Those were stories for nightmares. Nightmares Peter never wished to think of again.

He was eight when Jimmy came for him. Jimmy was a man. A man just like those that had insulted his mother and like the man who had taken her away. Yet, Jimmy was not like those men. Jimmy was not cruel and he did not look at Peter like he was something disgusting. He looked to Peter as if he was important. Peter grew to like this man.

Jimmy carried him like his mother did. His arms were as safe as hers and his voice as soothing. He took care of him and the other boys. He took in what was broken and discarded and made them a home. Jimmy made Peter believe that maybe he did not have to fear men. This man was good. There might be bad men out there, but if there were men like Jimmy, then there was no need to fear. This man would not hurt him. Peter would have followed that man for the rest of his life.

Until Neverland.

_"I see through your innocence just as I saw through his!"_

Jimmy smiled at him, stroking a large hand through his hair and Peter smiled back, feeling warm.

_"Oh, there were no hard feelings, once I cut him open like a Christmas goose!"_

Jimmy watched Peter leap across the rooftop, lips curved into a proud smile. "That's my boy."

Jimmy Hook.

He chose Bonny and the pirates over Peter and his boys.

James Hook.

He allowed Fox's murderer to stand at his side.

Hook.

He killed Peter's father, acting as if Jenny was an object to be owned. As if he owned her.

Captain Hook with his hooked hand and mad eyes. Jimmy hook was dead...or never existed. Like the man with the black eyes that robbed him of him mother, Hook had robbed him of two fathers. The one he never met and the one who guided him from that warehouse. Hook was a murderer. A cruel man, worse than the ones on the street that stared with their heated eyes. Worse than the one that turned off the light, leaving Peter and his mother to their fate. The back eyed man had followed Peter in spirit. Now standing shoulder to shoulder with Hook, like some specter that only Peter could see.

There were good men in Neverland. Kaw Chief was good and Fludd had been good. Yet the bad outnumbered the good.

Peter learned to fear men again.

Jimmy's final lesson.

If this was growing up, Peter never wanted to become a man.


End file.
